


These Sins I Bare

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 4
Genre: Ajay bares his sins on his skin, Anxiety, Atonement - Freeform, Been spending too much time with Longinus, Concerned Friends, Cutting, Forgiveness, Guilt, Implied/Referenced feelings between characters, Implied/referenced Rabi/Ajay Ghale, Implied/referenced Sabal/Ajay Ghale, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rabi just wants to help, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Sabal is Ajay's kryptonite, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Shame, nervous ticks, support system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 14:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14499291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: “Ajay.” Rabi spoke firmly, his tone uncharacteristically tense as he urged the other to cease. Ajay’s grip on the ATV tensed at the terse sound of the usually carefree tone, he sat back on the vehicle, his gloved hands moving to adjust his bag nervously as Rabi continued. “We need to talk. I wanted to- no, I should have brought this up earlier but I didn’t know how to. Dude, you know how much I care about you, right?”Ajay gave him a quizzical look, dragging out a slow and uncertain. “Yeah.” His brows creased.“Like, I care about you alot, alot!” Rabi emphasized. “Like not in a gay way or anything, though that’s totally fine if you don’t mind it, then it could be taken that way.” Rabi cut himself off, adjusting his rant as he realized he was getting off topic. “Anyway, the fact is I’m worried about you dude. I’m worried because I care because you mean alot to me, you’re like my only friend in the whole world, other then Chotu, but Chotu doesn’t really count like this. I just wanted you to know that.” Rabi danced around the topic, still trying to figure out how to be more direct in his concerns.“Rabi, what is this all about?”----Contains self-harm





	These Sins I Bare

**Author's Note:**

> This was a spur of the moment idea that came to me when I was listening to Rabi talk about how Ajay is a natural born killer and wondered how Ajay handles this views of himself. There was also a very sad song playing at the time and it played this whole idea out in my head and I had to write it. I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos below of what you think. Every bit is appreciated. ^.^

He sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the knife play across his skin, the edge biting generously against the worn and calloused flesh, tracing tally marks among older burns and blotchy scars between his gloved wrist and the exposed portion of his left forearm. He breathed a shaky sigh, his eyes going dim as they fluttered briefly, gazing out over the burning expanse of landscape and the newly liberated outpost. The trucks of Golden Path members revved their way up the high winding terrace roads, working towards the tea factory. His back was pressed against the cracked and warm tile of the roof, perched precariously where he had taken up a decent sniper post, picking off the reinforcements as they came. He reveled on their retreat when they realized there was nothing left to defend. The acrid burning of the heroin and poppies was blown away by the sharp winds traveling between the peaks, stirring up the trees on the forest edge, cooling the sweat on the back of his neck and soothing the scorching heat of the Kyrati sun and the blaze dying down below.

 

His head swam with a giddy buzzing, his body sagging back against the tiling as he hummed to himself, picking up the soft radio broadcast of local music playing from his newly hijacked tower just over the next ridge. He breathed a shaky sigh, letting the sound of the music and the warmth of the day claim him, the buzz of the fumes pulling at him, the khukri falling from his fingers to rest beside his rifle. Both seemingly forgotten as he drifted off to a familiar high, playing on the edges of his mind. The crackle of static invaded his attention, the buzz wavered as he started to push towards a more lucid state. His brows furrowed as the familiar voice tugged him back to the present and reality. “Yo, Ajay! Ajaaaay! You there dude?”

 

He grunted a response but the radio didn’t pick it up as the disk jockey continued to pester him. He sighed, a gloved hand grasping for the radio, fumbling a few times before he came up with the device, resting a little bit above his khukri, he clicked the button, pausing to clear his throat before speaking up. His voice was raspy and broken at first but smoothed out with use. “Yeah Rabi? What’s up?” He held off the annoyed edge that threatened to linger, not very pleased with the interference in his pleasant little buzz, between the drugs and his own adrenaline, he was soaring right now.

 

“Ah! You’re there. Great! I was hoping you wouldn’t mind popping by for a bit, eh? A couple a beers and some good tunes, what do you say?” Rabi piped up excitedly, his tone teasing at Ajay, trying to play aloof but his barely concealed restraint was fading quickly, unleashing the starry eyed DJ that idolized him to the point of it being borderline stalker-ish and anxiously intimate. Surprisingly enough, Ajay didn’t mind it. It was a nice change from being revered as the _Son of Mohan_ all the time and that completely coloring his legacy in the eyes of others. To Rabi, he was the man of many extreme and unbelievable deeds. A man whom Ajay didn’t have to hide in the shadow of because it was who he was. Though, some of Rabi’s ponderings would be better left off the air and to himself.

 

“Sure thing Rabi.” He conceded to the fanboy antics as Rabi reached climax in his request and was about two seconds away from deflating with the prolonged silence and falling into extensive apology. “Let me just clean up a bit and I’ll be over soon.”

 

“Alright dude! See you soon!” The man barked happily, drawing a bit of cluttered sounds and some muffled ranting to Chotu in the background before the radio went quiet. He sighed, stretching out across the tiling as he gave another glance at the landscape, feeling the itchiness of the blood on his skin and the fresh wounds on his body. He pushed himself upright, adjusting his sleeve to cover what bandages didn’t, figuring he could tend to it later as he collected his things, hoping to get a jump ahead before either Sabal or Amita arrive to rant or rave about his decision this time. His buzz was gone, the energetic antics of the radio host chased it away with the fresh air that filled his lungs, clearing his head a bit more as he descended from the roof. He managed to pinch a ride using a commandeered Royal Army truck he spray painted blue and gold markings on so as not to be mistaken by the Golden Path as an enemy, giving a straight shot towards Tirtha and the Abandoned Jheel.

  


Apparently he wasn’t sober enough to be driving. He crashed the truck, running a curve too quickly, dizziness swelled up and his vision blanked out briefly. Luckily enough he wasn’t really going all that fast and his seat belt was on, the body armor he was wearing helped take a majority of the force as he stumbled out and continued the rest of the way on foot. It took him two hours, scaling cliff sides and sliding down steep slopes, avoiding Dholes and rhinos along the way, he managed to get to his destination just as night was nearing. He contemplated hitting up Tirtha and waiting until the next day but the idea of walking through those gates and being surrounded by the masses clamoring for the _Son of Mohan_ , he decided Rabi could handle him being a little late. Besides, beer was walking the tightrope of beating out a bed in the communal housing. He lost one buzz, the least the DJ could do was supply a new one with fresh distractions.

 

He stumbled through the gates of the Jheel, bypassing the busted up truck sitting outside and making his way to the familiar door. He didn’t even need to knock before Rabi was throwing it wide open, sunglasses catching the last shreds of daylight as his lips quirked up into a wide grin. He pulled Ajay into a tight hug of greeting, giving a small grimace as he backed up and took in Ajay’s appearance. “Dude, you smell like a battlefield. You been fucking up Royal Army assholes again?” He gave his shoulder a firm pat as he steered him back inside, his mouth still going as he ushered Ajay to a chair, pushing the clutter of boxes and electronic parts aside. “Course you have.” He chuckled. “It’s what you do best. Here, take a load off, have a beer. You’ve earned it.” He chirped, pushing a warm Kyrati beer into Ajay’s hand before he could even sit his rifle down.

 

He gave a smirk, taking it as he pried the top off with his khukri gaining a fanboy squeal of delight from Rabi. “Dude, that’s some Rambo shit right there.” His face was split apart with another grin, a stark contrast when compared to the reserved and careful smiles from Sabal. Everything about Rabi was over the top and explosive with emotion and feeling. The energy brimming inside the small single room building, like an infectious static, it crawled under Ajay’s skin and pulled a smile across his own features as he took a long drag of his drink. The beer was shitty and warm but it was alcohol and he couldn’t exactly say no. He plopped back into his chair, releasing a deep sigh as he sagged into the seat, the weary smudges around his eyes pulling up with his rising spirits. Rabi plopped back into his own chair, turning up the tunes a little louder so they could settle in.

 

Ajay has done this enough times that Rabi figured out the man doesn’t talk much. He’ll chit chat back and forth, sometimes they’ll sit and talk for hours until one of them, namely Ajay, falls asleep in the chair, relaxing in while Rabi carries on with his broadcasts. It was easy to lose himself in the setting, with the warmth of the room, the comfort of knowing someone else he could trust was present, though Rabi’s voice wasn’t exactly soothing but the music helped carry him off.  Rabi’s voice helped keep him grounded, so he could wake at a moment’s notice. Often times due to a call from the Golden Path heads as they bark back and forth until neither can agree, leading to them demanding Ajay break the stalemate. This was something he was growing increasingly tired of and was partly the reason why he never lingered long in the villages or outposts, knowing with his luck, one or both of them would be soon to follow.

 

Tonight apparently wasn’t much different. They had a couple beers, delivering Ajay the decent buzz he was seeking, leaving him sagged into the chair as Rabi rants about Honey Badgers and Sherpas, promising to leave any personal commentary about Ajay out of the broadcast or at least waiting until after he has left to go on about his choice of undergarments again. His head rested in the gloved palm of his left arm, his sleeve sliding down to his elbow from his shifting back and forth in the chair until he was comfortable. His free hand resting in his lap, the empty beer bottle left forgotten at his feet along with his rifle and khukri. The radio host switched over to play a few songs, his eyes wandering over towards the sleeping beauty in his presence. His starry eyed gaze was dimmed as it trailed over just how exhausted the man was. The dark circles around his eyes were far more prominent, like dark bruising, sinking in with time. They worsened as the days went by, along with the myriad of injuries Ajay would come and go with.

 

His eyes drew over to the exposed forearm, seeing the markings stretching the expanse of flesh. Burns, scrapes, rope marks from Kyra knows what and something else. Rabi had to get closer to really see in the dim lighting of the room, he adjusted his sunglasses, taking note of the white strike marks across sun kissed and roughed over skin. At first they looked like simple enough cuts but as he inspected them more, he noticed how well lined up and measured they were. There were a dozen or so from what he could see, rising up along his arm and obscured the rest of the way by the turquoise fabric of his jacket. Rabi reached out to touch them, catching himself last minute as he shook his head, breathing a soft sigh. He knew it was a bad idea to wake the other man, partially because it would probably get him shot on accident and also because Ajay looked like he really needed it.

 

He decided it was better to ask in the morning as he retreated back to his desk for the night. At some point, he fell asleep, letting the radio run music on repeat for several hours until dawn broke and his internal clock urged him to life. Rabi blinked a few times, rubbing at his eyes behind his sunglasses as he glanced over his desk while stretching. They fell on the empty chair with a hand written note scribbled across some recycled papers. It was signed by Ajay, thanking him for the beer and mentioning that he had to run for some urgent Golden Path business.

 

This repeated several more times over the next week or so. Rabi would invite Ajay over for beer as usual, he would show up looking and smelling like he just stepped off the battlefield for a minute, he would collapse down into the chair and have a few beers. They would talk, mostly Rabi would, Ajay would smile and make small comments until his exhaustion or the beer, would claim him to an inevitable sleep. Each time, Rabi would wait until he was certain Ajay was out for the count before approaching, letting the music play on in the background. His gaze roaming over the newer fresher injuries, but the ones that troubled him most were hidden beneath his sleeve. Rabi grew one impressive pair of balls the night he decided to take a look himself, carefully easing Ajay’s sleeve up to see his arm. This was soon after the man had claimed De Pleur's fortress for the Golden Path. An exciting victory nonetheless but the place was crawling with Royal Army soldiers.

 

Rabi was surprised, or well, at this point he decided there was no reason for him to be surprised since it was Ajay, but the man had taken them all out, John Wick style with little to no injuries on his part. It was brought up in their conversation earlier that night, but come to discover as the fabric was raised, the Royal Army was the least of Rabi’s worries. There was a fresh set of nearly two dozen cuts on his arm. The previous ones had already faded to white scars or slightly reddened markings. These were nasty, angry and still chafing with dried blood. They were fresh.

 

Rabi held his breath, taking a step back as he let Ajay’s sleeve drop back down. He bit his lip to silence himself as he retreated back behind his desk. It was no secret that he cared deeply for Ajay’s well being, along with many others in Kyrat, he wanted nothing but the best for the man. He knew this whole, murder and killing thing would take its toll, it was inevitable even with the most hardened experienced soldier. He didn’t anticipate this and for once in his life, Rabi wanted to shout to the world but kept his mouth shut. It was definitely a world ending day for that but he bided his time, pushed it out of his mind until morning.

 

He caught Ajay attempting to slink out without a word, other then the scribbled note on the chair. The man had just slipped through the door, the click of the lock urging Rabi to his feet as he followed. Today Ajay was carrying his bow, slung over his shoulder, a handgun on his hip and a bag full of explosives. Well, more like half full. He did destroy an entire convoy the night before by rigging the road up to go boom when they reached the kill zone. That was one of the reasons he was running late, along with a spur of the moment extermination of an eagle whose feathers Ajay kept as a souvenir, passing a couple of them to Rabi as a sort of apology present. Rabi had gone apeshit excited about it, adding it to a stockpile of cool shit from his hero. This also included all of the little notes he’d left for him.

 

Today, Rabi wasn’t having it. He followed Ajay out the door, catching him just as he was mounting his ATV, a hand grasping at his shoulder, causing the man to turn with confusion. His eyes widened briefly, body tense before he realized who it was and he relaxed, offering a small smile in greeting. “Hey Rabi.” The sound of his name falling from that man’s lips could always kick start his heart into a drum roll but he brushed it off. “Sorry about leaving so soon but I gotta head back to Banapur and want to get there before noon-”

 

“Ajay.” Rabi spoke firmly, his tone uncharacteristically tense as he urged the other to cease. Ajay’s grip on the ATV tensed at the terse sound of the usually carefree tone, he sat back on the vehicle, his gloved hands moving to adjust his bag nervously as Rabi continued. “We need to talk. I wanted to- no, I should have brought this up earlier but I didn’t know how to. Dude, you know how much I care about you, right?”

 

Ajay gave him a quizzical look, dragging out a slow and uncertain. “Yeah.” His brows creased as he tried to figure out what Rabi was getting at.

 

“Like, I care about you alot, alot!” Rabi emphasized. “Like not in a gay way or anything, though that’s totally fine if you don’t mind it, then it could be taken that way.” Rabi cut himself off, adjusting his rant as he realized he was getting off topic. “Anyway, the fact is I’m worried about you dude. I’m worried because I care because you mean alot to me, you’re like my only friend in the whole world, other then Chotu, but Chotu doesn’t really count like this. I just wanted you to know that.” Rabi danced around the topic, still trying to figure out how to be more direct in his concerns. Any other time he couldn’t put a filter on himself and stop saying everything he thought, but now, he couldn’t get those words out of his mouth.

 

“Rabi, what is this all about?” There it was, the opportunity rearing its ugly head and Rabi was not ready for this. He took a deep breath, steeling himself as this could go many different ways, one possibly leaving him dead in the bottom of the lifeless lake outside his station, another leading to Ajay never speaking to him again and he didn’t really know which one was worse.

 

He reached out for Ajay’s left hand, pulling it towards him, an action the man allowed though not without a crushing amount of scrutiny and suspicion. It wasn’t until Rabi’s fingers moved from his gloves up to his forearm, that he tensed, his jaw tightened as they pushed the fabric of his jacket up to expose the neat uniform lines marking up the inside of his arm. White and red markings glaring up at them amidst the softer flesh of his arm, a harsh reminder to Ajay that had him swallowing hard. “This is what I was worried about. Ajay, dude, you know you can talk to me. About anything! I’m here to listen just as much as I am to talk your ear off.”

 

“It’s nothing.” Ajay corrected, a hard stab to Rabi’s chest as the man’s voice carried a colder edge to it. His gloved fingers wrapped around Rabi’s wrist and pried it away from his arm, letting his sleeve drop down. “It’s just another part of war.” He pressed, his eyes taking a distant look that shattered the hope Rabi was carrying that the man would open up, would tell him something. “You should head back inside Rabi, your listeners are waiting for you.” Just like that, the walls went up. Rabi could see the man building up the seclusion around him, the defenses like De Pleur’s fortress. If Rabi wanted to keep pressing, it would end up with a minefield of problems and he was afraid of losing the man for good.

 

“Alright. Fine.” Rabi conceded, raising his hands in a placating gesture as he stepped away.

 

Ajay resumed his grip on the ATV, his head dipping down as he moved to turn the ignition, pausing briefly as he stared at the handle bars. He breathed a heavy sigh that showed the massive weight that was resting on his shoulders, the way it was dragging him down. His voice came softer, sadder now without the cold bite from before. “You’re my friend Rabi. I’d like things to stay that way.” It came like a warning, but met Rabi like a plea for help, a crying out for someone to do something. Something that Ajay wasn’t strong enough to do himself.

 

The conversation ended with the revving of the engine as the ATV roared to life, the rebel was off in a matter of minutes, lost over the hills heading towards Banapur leaving Rabi standing alone in the early morning light of the Kyrati sun, the soft orange glow resting against his back as he turned and headed for the station, his intentions swirling in his mind, plucking at the only option he was left with. There was only one person that Ajay would listen to indefinitely, though Rabi feared this man would turn a deaf ear to the radio host’s urging. He just hoped he had selective hearing and would tune in at the mention of his favorite soldier.

  
  
  


Sabal had been in the middle of his morning prayers when one of the Golden Path members alerted him to an urgent phone call about Ajay. The supposed caller wouldn’t say what about specifically involving Ajay and would only explain to Sabal. This lit a frantic fire under the rebel leader as he was passed the phone, walking to the edge of the stone foundations of Banapur, his jade green eyes cast over the farming terraces as he answered the caller, whose voice he recognized immediately. It drew a growl of displeasure past his lips, half in mind to hang up right then and there but the radio host implored the urgency and begged him to listen. He did so, simply out of the guarantee that this information was dire to Ajay’s well being. What he heard, he simply barked out an incredulous laugh, stating it was preposterous but the radio host claimed the truth, regaling the rebel leader with his own attempt at intervention only to be shot down. This bit gave Sabal a brief spark of satisfaction but as the man continued, he gave very specific details about the subject in concern. So much so, that Sabal had to believe him.

 

After the call, he had been drawn away from Banapur to help with the pyres down by the lake. When he returned late into the afternoon, he discovered Ajay had been through the village to help out with some problematic hunting that needed to be done. He returned with a fresh stack of pelts and meat, then was off again without any announcement to where he was going and most certainly without seeking Sabal out. It had been three weeks since he last saw the _Son of Mohan_ face to face, giving the rebel leader the impression that he was being avoided. With a brief call to the caretaker at the Ghale Homestead, he was directed to alert him when Ajay would return.

 

It took two days before Sabal found himself walking up the narrow path of the homestead, recently alerted that Ajay had returned. Luckily enough he was at a nearby outpost which made it a much faster response, ensuring he wouldn’t miss the man. As he approached, the caretaker greeted him, informing him of recent events. Ajay had returned home, spent an evening in the tent with the junkies at the top of the hill, then came stumbling down the path and into the house looking even worse for wear. He hadn’t left the house all night but expected him to stir soon with the mid morning presence. Ajay never stayed in one place for long, even on a good day when they were permitted a semblance of peace and calm, the man was always rushing around, always busy.

 

He let himself in, his eyes scanning the room as he announced his presence. “Ajay, brother?” He called out, letting his eyes adjust to the exchange between the bright morning sunshine and the dimly lit interior of Mohan’s house. Ajay was still in the middle of repairs, the light fixtures were one of many things on the list of necessary fixes. At least the inside was cleaned up and more organized, apart from the haphazard littering of empty beer bottles resting on every conceivable surface. His eyes fixed on the half restored Thangka heirloom on the far wall, then traveled towards a corner where a groan found its way out. Just behind the ladder leading up to the bedroom, Ajay was curled up on a pile of mats, his belongings dropped into a heap on the ground, aside from his weaponry which seemed to be piled up on the kitchen table, mix and matched around the additional beer bottles cluttering the room. The pungent stench of weed clung to the walls and made the air a hard to breath fog of noxious inhalants. A far cry compared to the softer scents of incense Sabal was more accustomed to.

 

“Ajay?” He spoke up, his strides were hastened as he crossed the room to find the younger man had removed his jacket and gloves, leaving them piled up on top of his bag. He was partially on his stomach and partially on his side with his back to the rest of the room. The dark slim fitting t-shirt was stained with dark splotches, already long since dried, but causing concern to creased Sabal’s brows. He hated seeing blood on Ajay, never knowing rather it was that of his foes or if it was coming from the young man himself. It set off alarm bells in the back of his mind and this situation only made things worse as he pressed his hands to Ajay’s side and pulled him over onto his back carefully. “Brother, are you alright?” He urged, drawing another groan from the man, only it was more tired sounding and not pained.

 

“Sabal?” He grunted out after a deep shaky breath. He was pale, his eyes were surrounded by the dark pools that threatened to sink them. He looked like he wasn’t eating enough to say so and like he hadn’t slept since the last time he had seen him. He knew Ajay was busy, he had been reclaiming outposts and villages left and right, taking on a major victory with Varshakot fortress, working his way across the map towards Noore’s territory next. He was damp with sweat, his skin was burning up with a feverish heat spread across his body. Sabal searched for the cause, finding old puncture marks scarring the inside of Ajay’s elbow. His eyes trailing down to a more prominent detail, one he remembered from Rabi’s information. There were about two dozen measured uniform cuts spanning Ajay’s forearm. Some were much older, some were fresher and there were signs that some had been overlapped again and again, making them wider with messy edges. There were two fresh ones resting on his skin, the blood still present, not yet wiped away or completely dried.

 

As his eyes traveled down to his wrists, there was the usual wear and tear from rope burns and chafing from his watch shifting on his skin, outlining its presence with an odd tan line. This was the first time Sabal was seeing his hands though, finding with a startled realization, that his nail beds and fingertips were chewed raw, the area around his cuticles was picked at until scabbed over. His knuckles were worn away, bruised and beaten up as well, torn in places from punching with more bite marks and raw areas littering in between. Ajay never really struck him as the anxious type, always appearing so calm and collected. He was level headed, quiet and studious. A fast learner, naturally skilled and talented but he was also very human, Sabal had to remind himself. Just like his father, Mohan, Ajay had his limits and was faced with mortality and the weight of his actions. As well as the terrors that plagued war stricken lands. There was plenty to see in Kyrat that would twist one’s stomach into many vile little knots and carry with them over into nightmares every time they close their eyes.

 

“You’re real, right?” Ajay spoke up, breaking Sabal from his thoughts, causing him to take Ajay’s hand in his, pulling it up close as he reassured him with the physical contact of his presence.

 

“Of course I’m real, brother.” He silently cursed in his mind, figuring the junkies on the hill had something to do with this. He had half a mind to send a group of soldiers up to deal with their disrespect more directly. His rising anger faded as Ajay’s grip tightened on his, his lips tilting up a bit as he sighed.

 

“Good.” He murmured, tilting his head to the side, eyes barely open as he considered the other’s presence. Another firm squeeze as Ajay’s eyes slipped shut and he was out like a light. His chest rising and falling slowly as he submitted to the tendrils of sleep plucking at him. Sabal breathed a soft sigh, reaching over to card his fingers through the younger man’s hair in slow motions, drawing it out of his face as he pondered just what was going through his head.

  


As Ajay slept, Sabal wiggled his way free of the other’s grasp and set to work putting the house into proper order. He couldn’t help the sudden urge to be clean and organized, it was something that was ingrained into him from a young age, working with the rebellion instilled that necessity. He found the acts of cleaning were very meditative in their own right, giving him time to think with idle actions while still being productive with his time. He draped out a clean blanket over Ajay to keep him warm while he moved in and out of the house, cleaning up the beer bottles, washing the blood stains from Ajay’s clothing and hanging it to dry with some other laundry items.

 

He cleaned up the kitchen, put Ajay’s guns in the firearm locker where it was proper after a bit of cleaning for each to get the blood off the barrels and stock. As he was finishing up, he made Ajay and himself a proper meal, the smell of food cooking was enough to draw the younger man out of his nap, stirring to life in the corner with a sleepy yawn and a clumsy stretch. His head turning to rest his gaze on the very housewife appearance of the rebel leader as he plated their meal and set the small table for them both. “Hungry, brother?” Sabal inquired, placing a bowl of rice down beside each plate.

 

“Yeah, I could eat.” Ajay gave a warm smile of greeting, pushing himself up to his feet with another slow stretch, letting the blanket fall to the floor in a heap. He rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh as he approached his seat and slid into it, scooting closer to the table. His eyes took in the home cooked meal, drawing an embarrassingly loud growl from his beyond empty stomach. Sabal turned his attention to his own meal as he held his hands up in a subtle motion, giving a silent prayer in appreciation for their meal before he started eating. His green hues rising slowly when he noticed Ajay didn’t touch his yet, his body going stiff in his chair as if conflicted.

 

“Something the matter brother?” Sabal inquired, turning his head to meet Ajay’s eyes completely.

 

Ajay turned his head slightly away, making a deal of looking around. “My uh, my jacket and gloves are gone.” He pointed out slowly.

 

“You took them off before I got here. They were covered in blood so I washed them. They’re outside drying right now.” Sabal answered smoothly, watching Ajay fiddle with something beneath the table. Both of his hands were out of sight, making a concerned expression shadow his features for a moment, one that was not lost on the younger man. “Is something bothering you Ajay? If there is, I am here to listen if you need to talk.” He urged softly, remembering Rabi’s retelling of Ajay’s reaction when he said the same. He watched every muscle and movement but whereas Rabi mentioned Ajay’s unwavering defiance, placing walls around himself to push others away, here Ajay seemed to retreat.

 

His gaze failed to meet Sabal’s, his eyes staring down at the food with conflict in his eyes. Another growl from Ajay’s obviously hungry belly was enough to force the man to come to a decision. His battered hands returned to the tabletop, easily in Sabal’s view, with fresh blood rising around the enamel of his nails. He winced as he picked up a spoon and started eating, giving a murmured. “Don’t worry about it.” It was quiet, easily missed if Sabal wasn’t already watching him so closely. He hunched his shoulders as he leaned over the edge of the table, eating more akin to a starved dhole once the first few bites met his lips, he was far more ravenous and intent on his food then he was Sabal’s attention. That alone made the rebel leader’s stomach tighten, wondering when the last time he had a proper meal was.

 

Sabal gave in, withdrawing his stare to allow Ajay some privacy while he ate, the silence settling between them, more comfortable now then moments prior. He took more measured bites, taking his time with his meal. Ajay looked like he was seconds from choking on his own but as he moved through the meal, he slowed, not too noticeably but it was a more calm pace, the break coming after several large gulps of water. The silence dragged on as they were nearing the end of the meal, Sabal spoke up. “You’ve been very busy lately brother.” He chimed, his lips rising in a small smile as he raised his glass to take a sip. “You’ve been doing amazing work for the Path.” There was a nod and grunt of acknowledgement from Ajay, his mouth currently occupied so Sabal continued.

 

“You know, if you wish to take a break for a little while, nobody will fault you for that. You’ve done more than enough and in phenomenal time.” He praised, giving Ajay his full attention as he did so.

 

Ajay swallowed his food, giving a slow nod, then followed it with an immediate shrug. His hands moving down to his lap to avoid being out in the open as he sighed. “I don’t mind Sabal. If anything, I can’t stand sitting around all day when I know you guys are out there fighting and giving your all.” He shifted in his seat as he spoke more firmly. “I want to help.”

 

“I know you do brother, but wearing yourself thin won’t do the Path or I any good. We worry about you. You mean a lot to us, have done so much and saved so many people for the cause.” He spoke more proudly, his expression sincere as he pressed just how much Ajay meant to them. _To him._ He let out a deep exhale as he shifted to start clearing the empty dishes away. “You’ve more than earned a break, Ajay. Do not feel as if you must push yourself for us. We’ve taken back nearly all of the south with your help. It will be some time before we can mobilize enough to take back the north. Take the time to recover, to recharge. That’s all I ask brother.”

 

Ajay was quiet as he finished the last few bites of his meal, taking his drink to sip at for a moment, pausing as the rebel leader moved to take the rest of the dishes. He gave a nod of understanding as he conceded. “Okay Sabal.”

 

The rebel was apprehensive to believe that it would be that easy to talk Ajay into it. He knew he still had another problem to address before his work was done here but he would give the younger man some time before bringing up that conversation.

 

“I see that pair is still living on the hill.” Sabal brought up as he began washing dishes, giving Ajay a brief glance over his shoulder. The man tilted a smile, it was tired and strained but there nonetheless.

 

“Reggie and Yogi, yeah. I don’t mind them hanging around. Keeps things….familiar. I guess.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair to draw the dark locks out of his face, his shoulders slouching back against the chair. “They’re not bad people once you get to know them. They’re just trying to survive like the rest of us.”

 

Sabal hummed in understanding, his thoughts trailing back to when he found Ajay curled up in the corner, disoriented and confused. “I hear they’re infamous for their ‘ulterior recreations’. Do you often join them in that?” He didn’t look back at Ajay this time but he heard the chair creak as he shifted in his seat.

 

A tired sigh slipped free as he spoke. “I forgot you were here for that.” He cleared his throat, fiddling with his hands, fingers plucking at the scabbing on his knuckles. “I do every now and then. It helps me sleep afterwards but their toppers pack quite a punch. I’m not used to shit that strong.” Sabal hummed in acknowledgement before Ajay sat upright and corrected himself. “But don’t worry about it. It’s not anything addictive or harmful.”

 

“Brother, those drugs are the least of my worries right now.” Sabal said softly, his voice just loud enough for Ajay to hear. The chair creaked as he pushed himself up, approaching Sabal slowly, a hand resting on his shoulder.

 

“Sabal? What are you talking about?” He inquired, his dark chocolate orbs were more direct and focused. Still surrounded by the shadows of exhaustion but they were wary, studying Sabal’s expression for answers.

 

The rebel finished rinsing off the bowl in hand and sat it aside to dry in the rack as he retrieved a towel to dry his hands. He turned more directly to face Ajay, his hand reaching out to take the other’s wrist, holding it carefully at first. Ajay tensed, the sudden urge to flee crossed his features but he kept himself firmly in place as the rebel raised the arm to inspect the fresh wounds and the newly bleeding fingertips, turning his arm over so it was all out in the open. “This, Ajay. This is what worries me.” He pointed out.

 

Ajay stilled, his eyes widening as Sabal continued, his hands refusing to relinquish his grasp. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me, brother? If there is something wrong, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me.” He pressed more firmly now.

 

“It’s nothin-”

 

 _“Ajay Ghale.”_ The tone was sharp, causing Ajay to flinch, reminding him of all the times his mother had used that tone when he was getting into mischief. It wasn’t loud, but it was direct and sharp, demanding attention and causing a swell of panic to rise inside his chest. “Do not tell me this is nothing. Do not lie to me like that brother. It is clear to me that something is wrong, rather you open up to me about it or not, I’m not going to turn a blind eye to it.”

 

Sabal waited in expectant silence as he gave the younger a chance to defend or explain himself. His gaze dropped down to the hand still clutching at his wrist. Brief thoughts of fleeing crossed his mind, it would be simple enough to just push past Sabal and leave. Though, he had nowhere else to go. It wasn’t like america where he could run off and disappear in the night. Kyrat was a fish bowl with only so many places to hide before something finds you. He gave a deflated sigh, his lips parting to speak, his voice dropping much softer now as he explained. “These….” He started, taking a moment to collect himself. “These are my sins. Every life I’ve taken, each I’ve failed to save. They’re all there. A tally mark of my failures.”

 

“You seek atonement?” Sabal inquired after the silence spread between them and Ajay wasn’t anymore inclined to speak. He gave a slow nod, followed quickly by a disheartened shrug. “Ajay, what you need isn’t atonement.” Sabal started, fingers weaving between Ajay’s battered hands, holding them gently. “You need to seek forgiveness. Not from those who died, but from yourself. You need to learn to let that go. That doesn’t mean you need to forget about them, but don’t let it hang so heavily on your shoulders.”

 

“Sabal, I….” He opened his mouth to speak but there was little he could say. The look in the rebel’s eyes said it all. He understood Ajay’s pain. He’s seen the leader praying after every skirmish and fight, lost deep in concentration, mourning the loss of their brothers and sisters and maybe even forgiving himself for the lives he’s ended with his own two hands. He wasn’t alone in this which was reassuring but he didn’t know the first thing about forgiving himself or even if he was capable of it or even worth it.

 

“Come with me. You need to take a break and I think this is the perfect time for it.” He explained, drawing their hands away as he moved his own to cup Ajay’s face, their eyes meeting with sympathy.

 

“Where are we going?” He asked, his gaze trailing over the rebel with confusion.

 

“You’re going to learn how to forgive yourself in the eyes of Kyra.”

 

Ajay gave him a confused look. “Is this another religious field trip you’re sending me on?” He stated flatly, not feeling too eager to spend another day sitting in a temple watching a goat be slaughtered for Yalung.

 

“It is not a field trip brother.” Sabal chuckled, a smile peeking through as he started to pack a few things for their trip. This was non-negotiable but Ajay didn’t seem to mind it as he joined in, filling his own pack with necessities. “We’re going camping. Just the two of us and you’re going to feel the embrace of our beloved goddess.”

 

“So it’s like religion summer camp? Only in a war zone.” Ajay joked, his fingers finding the healing portions of his knuckles again. He caught himself, drawing them away as Sabal just scoffed at the comment as he headed out the door to retrieve the laundry hanging up. He returned quickly to give Ajay back his gloves and his jacket, which he was quick to put back on.

 

“You may bring your gun if you find it comforting but where we’re going, it will be unnecessary.”

 

“I don’t think there’s a single place in Kyrat that it’s unnecessary to carry a gun at.” Ajay blanched, shaking his head as he packed away a few more things, taking a moment to climb the ladder and retrieve his weaponry. “How long are we going to be gone?” He called down to Sabal.

 

Sabal zipped his pack closed and sighed. “However long it takes, brother.”


End file.
